“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Just somewhere quiet where we can talk. Maybe right over there,” he said, pointing to an area of the lake that seemed out of the way. He let the small engine idle and then stop, leaving them floating quietly. He faced her. “I think I should explain a few things.”
“Are we out on the lake so I won’t panic and run?”
He chuckled. “Nah. I’m not wanted or anything. Yet, anyway. I’m an attorney,” he said. “My wife was an attorney. We had very different practices—she was part owner of a nonprofit legal clinic that operated mostly on grants and donations. I was part of a large firm. We met in law school—University of Michigan. We married as soon as I graduated. I was only twenty-seven, in a brand-new job, studying for the bar. Her name was Lynne Aimee Baxter and she was an amazing woman. She got sick before she was thirty but for a while we considered it a nuisance. We researched it, got a lot of medical opinions, but we got on with our lives. We had a few years before things got worse. You know about the disease...”
“I know about it.”
“She suffered tremendously. After she died, I tried to be half as brave as she was and just carry on. I stayed in our house, I went to work every day, I called my in-laws every Sunday. I did that for a year. And then suddenly I just couldn’t do it anymore. I finished up or handed off what was on my desk. I tried to resign but my boss wouldn’t let me. He insisted it could only be an indefinite leave of absence and that my position would be waiting for me when I was ready.”
“Doesn’t it figure that we’d have that in common? Why didn’t you just admit you were a lawyer named California Jones right away?”
“The stages,” he said. “First, it’s because to tell one part invites questions that insist on answers. Why aren’t you a lawyer now? Why walk out on a great job at your age? Et cetera. I don’t talk to everyone about my wife, about her illness and the way she suffered. Then the next stage is this—I can’t give legal advice anywhere I’m not licensed. And I wasn’t licensed in California or here.”
“Really? Because I don’t have to have a medical license in the state of Michigan to advise a friend with blinding headaches to get a head CT.”
“There’s an argument that if I don’t get paid for the advice I’m not breaking the law, but it’s an argument that’s been challenged. Doctors and attorneys volunteering their services are still culpable for practicing without a license. Screwing it up could not only get me in trouble, it could compromise your defense. It wasn’t worth the risk.”
“Well, I can’t count the number of cocktail parties where I’ve been backed into a corner and asked if an eye twitch could be a brain tumor.”
“The problem for me was that I’d have to be so careful not to be involved—and you told me you were being sued. So instead of saying anything, I petitioned the state of Colorado for a license to practice. There’s reciprocity between our states. It was just a formality, but a requirement. Now, if you need me, I’m available. And...” He shrugged. “I wanted to tell you I was married before. That seemed like something you should know. It wasn’t important for me to share with anyone before, Maggie. It wasn’t important until it was you.”
“I’m sorry for all that, Cal. It must have been so terrible. So after a year, you just got in your truck and...”
“First, I packed up everything with Sedona’s help. I put a lot of stuff I thought I’d want again someday in storage and sold the house and most of the furnishings. And then I relived the odyssey of growing up, living in a different place every few months. I can’t explain why, Maggie. It makes no sense. The best time of my life was when I was settled, when I had a job, a house, a family even if it was only me and my wife. It was instinctive, I think. Reaching back in time to see if I could retrace my footprints.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Just somewhere quiet where we can talk. Maybe right over there,” he said, pointing to an area of the lake that seemed out of the way. He let the small engine idle and then stop, leaving them floating quietly. He faced her. “I think I should explain a few things.”
“Are we out on the lake so I won’t panic and run?”
He chuckled. “Nah. I’m not wanted or anything. Yet, anyway. I’m an attorney,” he said. “My wife was an attorney. We had very different practices—she was part owner of a nonprofit legal clinic that operated mostly on grants and donations. I was part of a large firm. We met in law school—University of Michigan. We married as soon as I graduated. I was only twenty-seven, in a brand-new job, studying for the bar. Her name was Lynne Aimee Baxter and she was an amazing woman. She got sick before she was thirty but for a while we considered it a nuisance. We researched it, got a lot of medical opinions, but we got on with our lives. We had a few years before things got worse. You know about the disease...”
“I know about it.”
“She suffered tremendously. After she died, I tried to be half as brave as she was and just carry on. I stayed in our house, I went to work every day, I called my in-laws every Sunday. I did that for a year. And then suddenly I just couldn’t do it anymore. I finished up or handed off what was on my desk. I tried to resign but my boss wouldn’t let me. He insisted it could only be an indefinite leave of absence and that my position would be waiting for me when I was ready.”
“Doesn’t it figure that we’d have that in common? Why didn’t you just admit you were a lawyer named California Jones right away?”
“The stages,” he said. “First, it’s because to tell one part invites questions that insist on answers. Why aren’t you a lawyer now? Why walk out on a great job at your age? Et cetera. I don’t talk to everyone about my wife, about her illness and the way she suffered. Then the next stage is this—I can’t give legal advice anywhere I’m not licensed. And I wasn’t licensed in California or here.”
“Really? Because I don’t have to have a medical license in the state of Michigan to advise a friend with blinding headaches to get a head CT.”
“There’s an argument that if I don’t get paid for the advice I’m not breaking the law, but it’s an argument that’s been challenged. Doctors and attorneys volunteering their services are still culpable for practicing without a license. Screwing it up could not only get me in trouble, it could compromise your defense. It wasn’t worth the risk.”
“Well, I can’t count the number of cocktail parties where I’ve been backed into a corner and asked if an eye twitch could be a brain tumor.”
“The problem for me was that I’d have to be so careful not to be involved—and you told me you were being sued. So instead of saying anything, I petitioned the state of Colorado for a license to practice. There’s reciprocity between our states. It was just a formality, but a requirement. Now, if you need me, I’m available. And...” He shrugged. “I wanted to tell you I was married before. That seemed like something you should know. It wasn’t important for me to share with anyone before, Maggie. It wasn’t important until it was you.”
“I’m sorry for all that, Cal. It must have been so terrible. So after a year, you just got in your truck and...”
“First, I packed up everything with Sedona’s help. I put a lot of stuff I thought I’d want again someday in storage and sold the house and most of the furnishings. And then I relived the odyssey of growing up, living in a different place every few months. I can’t explain why, Maggie. It makes no sense. The best time of my life was when I was settled, when I had a job, a house, a family even if it was only me and my wife. It was instinctive, I think. Reaching back in time to see if I could retrace my footprints.”
